


Broken Pieces

by rufferto



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Duty, Feelings!, Flashbacks, Guilt, M/M, Mention of torture, Mutual Pining, PTSD, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers in Flashbacks, Romance, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn, Steve POV, There Is OnlY One Bed - But they are used to it., Unrequited Love isn’t actually Unrequited, feelings all over the place, kiss already, post ws, pre CW, so much pining, they both suck at communication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26455924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufferto/pseuds/rufferto
Summary: Steve feels the weight of duty when a recovering Bucky begs him for help about a year after the events at the Triskelion. It’s not easy being Captain America when everyone expects you to make the right choice.Beta: shipperfiendobssesser@tumblr. com Thank you so much dear!!Timeline: Sometime between Winter Soldier and Civil War.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter One

Chapter ONE

_Prologue_

_The first time he met Bucky, Steve was sitting awkwardly on his ass as he gaped at the handsome boy who had chased off a couple of obnoxious bullies. He hadn't asked for help!  
_

_Steve Rogers’ young life had been a struggle from the first day. His sickly condition made it difficult to find and keep friends. Steve normally distrusted other kids his age because they would never stick around for long. He was usually up on his feet by this time and he would have gotten up immediately but he thought he might have injured something. So he'd stayed on his ass for five minutes trying to work up the courage to test for any pain when the boy came back from chasing the bullies off._

_Steve doesn’t accept help to get up. He usually does everything by himself and he’ll fight anyone who says he can’t do something. Then along came Bucky Barnes. The only person in the entire world who could get him to do what he didn't want to.  
_

_“I’m Bucky,” said the boy. His hand held out to Steve. “Bucky Barnes.”_

_“Steve,” responded Steve. He looked up at ‘Bucky’; a taller boy with thick brown hair, grey eyes, and a sturdy build. “I didn’t ask for help,” he said warily. “I’m Steve Rogers.”_

_"I know you didn't but let me help you just the same," Bucky gave him an encouraging look._

_Steve took his hand and broke a cycle of constant mutiny against help. Bucky came into his life that one afternoon all those years ago and Steve always thought he would be there forever._

Present Day

It was early in the afternoon at the Avengers Compound and Steve had managed to get through another morning of meetings without punching anyone in the face. He hated the talks and the posturing and the nonsense that was flying back and forth. Being a hero meant that you stood up for those who could not stand up for themselves. It meant that you took care of the bad guys when no one else could no matter where people were being hurt. That was the long and short of it, there was nothing else to it.

The last few weeks hadn’t been easy for him. He was usually very focused, but lately he could only think about the man that had dropped back into his life. An important man; one he’d loved, seen die, and mourned. What else could he do but try and find him? He could have been left to drown, but Bucky had pulled him out. He had recovered from the injuries by now and knew Tony and Natasha were worried about him. They had never seen Cap look that beat up.

He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly, still unable to process it. He’d seen the look in Bucky’s eyes, he’d seen horror and pain. Then Buck had rescued him and Steve knew, without a doubt in his mind, he knew that Bucky had remembered at the last minute. He poured himself a drink knowing damn well that it wouldn’t do much for him, but he drank anyway. A tiny buzz might help his mood. He was trying to avoid thinking about the past, but he couldn’t help it. It hurt.

He was pulled from his reverie standing inside his office and staring out over the lake by a sound from his phone. He pulled up a message without checking who it was from. It was a single image from an unknown number. The image was a picture of him zoomed in exactly where he was right now. Before he could react the image suddenly vanished from his phone and then another text appeared. It was odd at first, a bunch of dashes and dots. Steve studied them, puzzled. It dawned on him what they were, morse code. He worked it out and wrote it down on a notepad near his desk.

He realized quickly enough that they were coordinates. Latitude and Longitude. For him, the war had not been that long ago, so his skills were still sharp. He quickly studied the note and made sure he’d matched everything up. Then checked the location on his phone. They were about ten miles away, not far at all. Who would be sending morse code in a text message? That didn’t make any sense. The screen flashed and suddenly both messages deleted themselves. Whoever was on the other end had given him only enough time to write the code down. Steve stared at his phone skeptically, “Friday?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Captain,” the computer responded.

“Would you please provide the past five messages that came to my phone? I was distracted and accidently deleted them.” Steve exhaled, unsure of whether or not he should follow his gut instinct and head to those coordinates. He really isn’t sure why he trusted them. He wondered if it was a trap, of course, but something just told him to go.

Friday spent a few moments processing. “Here are your last five messages, Captain. Nothing has been deleted.”

“Are you certain?” Steve asked as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Checked twice, Captain,” chirped the computer. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, that will be all.” He shook his head, folded his arms, and frowned.

He fingered the piece of paper on his desk and picked it up. Morse Code. After mulling it over in his mind, Steve concluded it could only be one thing, a call for help. Maybe it was a long shot, but he knew the code and he also knew that someone else was aware of that. Most people these days would not know how to communicate in that fashion. Except for maybe Natasha and she was in the building.

It had to be Bucky.

Part of him knew he should say something to someone about what he was about to do. On the other hand, he didn’t care. If it was a trap, he would handle it himself. This whole building felt like one these days anyway.

“Friday, I’m going out,” Steve stated firmly. He got his jacket and packed an overnight bag. On instinct, he threw in a first aid kit. “I’ll be back in a few days. If anyone needs me, text, I need some air.”

“Yes, Captain, where shall I say you are going?”

“Out.”

“I don’t think Mr. Stark is going to approve.”

Steve ignored the computer and worked his way out of the compound towards the garage. He hated a lot of things about living in the compound, but the worst part was the lack of freedom and too much security. It was for their protection, Tony had said. He understood that, but he preferred a smaller place and he liked privacy.

The Accords had just thrown him off. Steve hated them, so did Wanda, Sam, and Clint. He wasn’t sure about what Natasha thought, she was always hard to read. Because of all of this he was willing to take any excuse to get the heck out of there for a little while. If not, he might do or say something he was going to regret. He didn’t hate Tony, who was his friend too, but sometimes the man was impossible.

He had one mission right now, and that mission was to find what was left of his best friend. The Accords be damned, Natasha and Tony could deal with that mess.

When he went to get his bike, Sam was leaning on one of the cars, apparently Friday was a snitch. “What do you think you are doing?” he asked softly in concern.

“I gotta go out, Sam, I gotta get air.”

“I realize that, but we need you in there. Tony only ever listens to you,” responded Sam. “When will you be back?”

“I dunno, Monday probably.”

“Steve,” Sam frowned, “don’t go.”

He knew Sam wouldn’t get in his way and was just being a good friend. “I’ll be back, promise.” Steve reassured him.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sam nodded. 

Steve grunted, got on his bike, and drove to the coordinates that were shown on his phone. He found himself in a small clearing by the shore, but there was no one there. He waited until the sun finally dipped down over the horizon and wondered whether he knew what he was doing or if he’d lost his mind completely. He responded to an irritated text from Tony with _leave me alone_.

Bucky had spent the past seventy years being brainwashed by Hydra. He wasn’t the same person anymore, there might be nothing left. Sam had attempted to talk him out of this and the authorities could handle, it but they might shoot first and he couldn’t stand the thought of losing Bucky again, even if there was only a tiny part left. It was that part that Steve was determined to hold on to.

What else did he really have in this world? He was a man out of time. He stuck out like a sore thumb even when he was trying to hide. He leaned on his motorcycle as he watched the waves tumble against the smooth pebbles of the shoreline. He could have relationships, but he didn’t see the point. There was no one he could relate to, no one who could understand the things he went through or the things that shaped him. His life started in such a different time and the world had changed so much since then. Where did he fit? He had no idea. He picked up one of the smooth pebbles and thought about tossing it into the lake and playing like he and Bucky used to do. It had been so long since the good days.

He didn’t like constantly being told to move on, forget the past. He had tried, he really did, but a ghost from the past had decided to throw a wrench in his attempt to grapple with life in the future.

Bucky was alive.

Steve shivered and sighed. He fought the urge to remember. That brought too much pain. When he let the memories free, they would torment him; the good times, and the bad. No one seemed to understand today how hard things where when he was young. They read the books and they saw the movies, but they did not know.

He fingered the pebble he just picked up. It sat in the palm of his hand and he traced the smooth surface with his thumb.

_A kiss was not something he should be so afraid of._

_Bucky jostled Steve’s shoulder. “You mean to tell me you ain’t kissed anyone?” His eyes were wide as saucers as he stared in disbelief._

_They were walking out of a bar since Bucky had a line on cheap cigarettes and he had wanted to refill without spending all of his boxing money. Bucky's face was bruised and Steve remembered feeling annoyed about it. Bucky always managed to get in as much fights as he did though he didn't usually take hits and Steve was stewing over the fact that Bucky wouldn't tell him what happened.  
_

_He wasn’t sure how the conversation had started, how it turned into his sex life. He knew Bucky was in the mood to hook up and was trying to get Steve to agree to be his wing man as usual. Steve’s answer to a series of uncomfortable questions was one that he hoped would get him off the hook for once._

_“No one?” Bucky asked again. “Not even Sally Richardson? The blonde dame in the third grade who was dizzy about ya?”_

_“Bucky, can we let it go please?” Steve gave him an incredulous look. He laughed uncomfortably at the mention of Sally. “Bucky, that’s ridiculous. No one has ever been in a dizzy over me. How do you even remember her name?”_

_Bucky had made a comical face at him, and chuckled. “Gals look at ya all the time, you just don’t notice.”_

_“That’s nuts, anyway. I’m going home, Bucky. You can go carouse if you want to.”_

_Bucky snorted. “Nah,” he blew a raspberry, “No fun without ya.” He latched his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “We gotta fix this no kiss part though, ain’t right.”_

_Steve always let Bucky drape over him, not that he could stop the man. Bucky was always touching him. He liked to touch Steve, whenever he could._ Steve missed that most now. He missed being able to trust someone so completely _. “What do you suggest?” He laughed softly. Whatever Bucky said, he knew dames weren’t into him. Not when they had someone like Bucky to look at._

_Bucky was every woman’s dream. A strong man, tall and dark with soft eyes. Steve often wondered why he hadn’t gotten married yet. He had opportunities; women flocked to his side. He had an easy charm and could get whatever he wanted when he needed it. Steve always liked looking at Bucky._

_“I think,” Bucky had given him an odd look as if he had been about to say something and thought better of it. He’d swallowed and shaken his head, a big grin plastered on his face. “Awe, we’ll get someone just right for ya!” he’d promised._

_That right girl had never shown up, but also Bucky had never left his side. Not until the war._

Even though Natasha and Tony had prodded him about his relationship with Bucky, he’d never mentioned anything other than friendship. He never talked to anyone about the feelings he harbored for Bucky, even though Peggy had tried to get it out of him. The tough part was that it could _have_ been more had he acted on any of the countless times Bucky had given him an opening. Eventually Bucky had stopped trying.

As he stood there by the lake shore Steve stared hard at the water. He’d been here for at least a couple of hours. What could he even say? What if it wasn’t even Bucky who contacted him? Tony would call him reckless for going on blind faith, but that was all he had. 

When he had nothing, he had Bucky. These days he was a man with everything at his fingertips, but he lacked the one constant he desperately wanted. He must find a way to heal the pain that he never actually recovered from. Bucky’s fall from the train had been the worst trauma he’d ever experienced and he didn’t know how to heal from it. He just had to keep going. That’s what he was doing. He owed it to Bucky. Finish the job, get the bad guys. That was the deal. That was what they had all signed up for. That’s why he had never processed it, he had never stopped. People around him now just didn't seem to understand that the war was fresh in his mind.

Steve tossed the pebble across the water again.

He knew he’d never hear the Winter Soldier when he arrived. The man’s presence is what he felt though so he remained as calm as possible. It took every ounce of his will to not turn around. He had to trust, he had to hold on to that small sliver of hope that Bucky was still in there somewhere. He had to give Bucky the option to approach first. He understood trauma. He knew Bucky had suffered.

“Steve,” the soft-spoken word sent a shiver down his spine.

He was close enough to turn around and touch, he could feel the warmth off Bucky’s body. Steve inhaled Bucky’s scent and tried hard to keep calm. “I’m alone,” he whispered.

“I see that,” answered Bucky quietly, “are you alright?”

Steve’s eyes widened at the question, what did he mean? Why wouldn’t he be? Then he realized Bucky was asking about the injuries from the Triskelion. He stared at the lake, afraid that if he turned around Bucky would vanish and this would all be in his imagination. It was odd also because that had been a while ago.

“I’ve healed up, it's been a long while Bucky.” said Steve, “you?”

“I’ve been better,” Bucky replied.

“Are you here to turn yourself in?” asked Steve softly, he was still focused on what was in front of him.

“No,” the snort that followed was an indication of the old Bucky. He used to do that when Steve said something dumb. “I just wanted to see that you were okay.”

“I’m…” Steve sighed, and looked down at the ground. “I’m not okay, Bucky.”

Bucky’s jaw worked, “Yeah, I’m not either,” he muttered reluctantly.

Several minutes passed and Steve wondered if Bucky had gone. He could still smell Bucky though, so he hadn’t left. He heard Bucky release his trigger finger from his gun and slide his gun back into its holster. There was so much he wanted to say and he didn’t know where to start. It seemed Bucky had been nervous, understandable. He couldn’t have been sure that Steve would come alone.

“You gonna look at me, Stevie?” Bucky’s voice sounded pained, like he was worried Steve would be repulsed by him.

Steve turned around and stared hard at the man who was his best friend. Hydra had stolen his soul and crushed him. They’d made him into a terrifying ghost story. They’d taken his arm and replaced it with a weapon. The more he categorized the changes the more it hurt so he looked at Bucky’s face instead of his body. 

“Who am I looking at?” asked Steve with a soft tremble in his voice.

“It’s me, Steve, more or less,” Bucky reassured him.

“Coming here was a risk.” Steve recognized how stale that comment sounded, but he had no inkling of what else to say. He kept his hands firmly at his side as if he didn’t keep control, he would reach out and throw himself at Bucky.

“I had to see you, make sure you were okay,” Bucky mumbled, “since I almost killed you.”

“But you didn’t,” Steve shook his head, “you didn’t.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Bucky pursed his lips, “you had no idea what was in my head. I was a man with only one mission. My job was to kill you, I would have too, and I almost did Steve.”

“You saw me, you remembered,” countered Steve.

“Not everything,” Bucky shook his head, “You gotta understand, pal. I ain’t all here.” He gestured at his brain. “They messed me up bad and I’m sorting things out. But I need time; time your friends don’t want to give me.”

“They don’t know you.” Steve stubbornly stood his ground.

“If you knew half the things I’ve done,” Bucky lowered his eyes, “you would want to lock me up too.”

Steve couldn’t resist the urge any longer and reached towards Bucky. To his surprise Bucky only startled a little bit and looked at him cautiously, but he did not pull away. With a small smile Steve rested his hand on the back of Bucky’s neck and leaned their foreheads together.

They stood together like that for a long time, as long as they dared.

“Come with me, Steve?” Bucky asked him softly. “I need you. I still ain’t right and you…you’re the only person I trust.”

When did Steve Rogers ever do something just for himself?

He gave Bucky a reproachful look, what a question to ask! He didn’t know what to say. A part of him really wanted to just follow Bucky on his motorcycle and never look back. He had people here who would be affected, people who depended on him. He couldn’t just abandon them. It was expected of him to not be selfish and to take the high road. The Avengers depended on him, but Bucky was his best friend and needed him more.

Bucky gazed at him and silently implored him to say yes.

He rubbed the back of Bucky’s neck unconsciously and felt Bucky shudder slightly. He pulled his friend into a hug.

He took too long to answer, and it hurt like hell to see Bucky’s facial expression harden from hope to dejection in that pause. He had to do something, had to say anything. He didn’t want Bucky to be alone. He couldn’t do that to him.

“How about a compromise?” Steve asked finally, it was the best he could offer, and Bucky knew it. “How about we figure something out? Get you a safe house.”

“I got plenty of those, Steve,” Bucky had spoken quietly as his hands rested on Steve’s hips. “It’s alright, I know you can’t run away with me.” His hand moved from Steve’s hip to his chest. “I’d stay somewhere for a time, if you were there, as long as you were there. Even…even at the compound. I’d let them capture me if I knew you would be there.”

Was can’t really the right word? Steve wracked his brain as he tried to work out the possibilities of the two of them being able to meet in secret. SHIELD was still reeling from the events at the Triskelion. The Avengers had the backing of Stark Enterprises, there was backup there, but they were in the middle of negotiations with the governments of the world. And they would hardly have time to be together if the Avengers captured Bucky. He wasn’t sure he trusted them enough to keep his friend from being imprisoned forever.

The weight of responsibility was crushing him. Being a hero wasn’t about letting a committee decide actions. A hero did what was right. A hero acted when he was needed regardless of who needed him. And Bucky _needed_ him. Steve looked back in the distance at the Avengers compound where all his new friends were having arguments over when they should act.

His oldest friend was right in front of him. How could he let down the man who stood by him for years?

_You’re the only person I trust._

Bucky’s fingers curled against his chest. “Steve?” he questioned the delay in answer. He tried to mask the hurt in his eyes; the confusion and the desperation. Steve was taking too long. “I understand, they need you too.” He noticed Steve glance at the compound.

“I can give you the weekend,” Steve decided. “I’m not sure about beyond that, and I don’t think I trust anyone at the compound about this yet. We’re not going there.” He slid his hand over Bucky’s and linked their fingers together. “It’ll have to be enough for now. Things are being said that will ultimately determine whether I stay with the Avengers and I need to see it through. If it goes the way I think it’s going, I’m in the wind, and I gotta be there for the people who think like me. Wanda, Sam and Clint.”

“Always the hero,” a tight smile tugged at Bucky’s lips, then it wavered. “A weekend? Just one?”

“No, no.” Steve shook his head quickly. “Right now, Buck, that’s all I can give. It ain’t gonna be always. Just got to take care of stuff before I leave the team.” He was leaving the team. As soon as they brought up the Accords, he knew he was leaving. He didn’t save people by committee. He had been planning to talk to Sam about helping him find Bucky. He hadn’t expected Bucky to reach out. “Is that enough for now?” he asked gently. He traced the back of Bucky’s hand as he waited for an answer.

There was a slight twitch under Bucky’s eye as his gaze snapped up to Steve’s. He seemed not to like his hand being touched at all. It seemed like he only left it there because he was holding back the urge to pull away. Some kind of reaction to being touched? Steve frowned.

Bucky let out a shaky breath. “Yes, of course. I’ll take what I can get. Steve,” he almost yelped the name and tugged his hand away from Steve’s. “Why did you do that?” he blurted out. He seemed confused and unsure. The intimate touch had rattled him.

“Sorry, wasn’t thinking,” admitted Steve ruefully. “Do you have somewhere we can go?”

Bucky nodded, and flexed his hand a little nervously. “I got a cabin a couple of hours away.”

“Okay.” Steve glanced at his bike. There was a chance Tony had put all kinds of tracking devices on it. He couldn’t take it to a safe house. He went over to it, took out his pack, and examined it for any bugs. There was no point in hiding it if it was bugged. “I think it’s clear, but to be on the safe side, let’s take your bike.”

Buck’s eyebrows rose. “Okay,” he swallowed. “Okay, Steve.”

“Only other problem is my phone. They can track it,” frowned Steve.

Bucky opened his metal hand.

Steve quickly typed a message off to Natasha and Tony: “Going dark for the weekend. Back on Monday, don’t try and find me, gotta think and need air. Don’t worry.” Then he turned it off and dropped the phone in Bucky’s hand. 

Bucky closed his fist and crushed it easily and tossed it into the lake. “Come on, my bike is close.”

Steve looked over the bike, it looked good, like it could take a lot of damage. It didn’t look any better than most bikes on the road because Bucky obviously wouldn’t want anything that would cause him to stand out. It was clearly modified though. Steve could see the signs; the spots for hidden weapons. The large compartments on the back to store things, the subtly placed levers. He got onto the seat and scooted backwards. “Nice bike,” he commented with a smile.

“You’re just gonna sit behind me?” Bucky asked as he swallowed thickly.

“Yeah, that a problem?”

“Nah,” mumbled Bucky. He got on the bike, started it, then waited.

Steve held on to his waist and his long legs slid behind Bucky. When he did, Bucky’s back immediately stiffened. “It’s just me,” he said softly. The words seemed to relax him. “Come on, let’s go.”

As the bike sped off Steve smiled. He’d made the right decision going with Bucky, he was sure of it. It meant so much that Bucky had contacted him. His heart lifted a little bit. They had so many things to talk about.

Bucky drove them down back roads and paths off the map. Even if Steve had been keeping track, which he probably should have been, he wasn’t. Steve was concentrating on Bucky instead; the warmth of his body, his scent, the strong muscles of his back. It dredged up memories of his teenage years. Good memories this time.

_“I’m so cold,” Steve complained as he huddled under the blanket._

_“You’re always cold,” Bucky laughed and pulled him closer. They were listening to Flash Gordon. Bucky always came over to listen to it with Steve, without fail. Rain or snow. “I swear in another life you were an icicle.”_

_“That’s stupid,” Steve snorted. “That would make you a volcano!” He’d gone into a peel of laughter at the idea. He often liked to treat Bucky like his own personal hot water bottle, so the analogy wasn’t too far off. It was quite useful in the winter months when he experienced severe chills._

_Bucky never resisted cuddling or the camaraderie and often initiated it._

Steve, therefore, really enjoyed this moment. Even being a super soldier, he would still get too cold. Only Bucky had ever been able to chase away the chill. After all the arguments back and for this week at the compound Steve really needed this. He needed Bucky’s warmth.

That other thing Steve needed to address would take time. A weekend wouldn’t be enough. The two of them had a lot of suppressed emotions to cover and he wasn’t sure how to even begin. He wasn’t even sure how Bucky would handle the truth.

_Why did you do that?_

He recalled Bucky’s reaction to the intimate touch. Steve would talk about it when the time was right. For now, he was there as a friend and that was all. Sudden declarations of desire would just confuse both of them and not be practical. What mattered right now was Bucky’s state of mind. Steve had no interest in confusing him or throwing a wrench into his recovery. He was a master at repressed feelings, after all. A little while longer wouldn’t ruin anything.

Bucky concentrated on driving and eventually pulled up to a pair of rusty gates which he got off the bike to unlock the gate. It would have been easy to miss as the path veered off and foliage obscured the opening to the gate. He opened it and took them through. “Well, We’re here," he exhaled.

Steve’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you said cabin.” A two-story house was looming at the end of the road, shrouded by trees. It looked like one of those old Victorian houses that a plantation owner would have built. It didn’t look entirely safe with part of the roof caved in, no one had been near this property in years. The yard was overgrown, vines and weeds had taken control of what had once been a meticulous garden.

“It’s abandoned,” Bucky shrugged and got off the bike. He picked up his pack. “Hydra used to own it, hasn’t been kept up in a while. I fixed a few things though, patched as much of the roof as I could manage without help. There’s light, electricity, and running water from the well. There’s a small town nearby with a corner store.”

“Oh,” Steve frowned at the mention of Hydra. “I can help you with the roof.” He liked it, it had charm, and he wanted to trust Bucky.

“I’d like that,” Bucky said softly. He unlocked the front door and looked back over his shoulder with a frown. “You coming?”

This was his chance to back out. Steve understood completely what Bucky was saying between the lines. He could either trust Bucky and come inside or leave and perhaps never find him. Bucky waited patiently for Steve to decide, metal hand resting on the doorknob, ready to fight or invite him in. One of the two.

With a deep breath he strode up the porch steps. “I’m coming,” he nodded.

Bucky smiled, relieved, and opened the door.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Bucky talk a bit. Bucky makes dinner and Steve has a revelation.

CHAPTER TWO

The tour of house lasted about three seconds as there were only three safe rooms to navigate in. The rest was a disaster. The three rooms that Bucky had taken over were the kitchen, a half bath, and the living room. Steve looked at the small mattress Bucky had tossed on the floor by the fireplace. Pillows were stacked around in a sort of haphazard fashion. There were empty cans in the kitchen, bottles, and other assorted essentials but otherwise extremely sparse.

Over to the side weapons were piled in crates and duffel bags, a small horde. He didn’t see a whole lot of extra clothing around though. Bucky wasn’t dirty, so he must be showering somewhere. “It’s homey?” Steve said at last. The living room reminded him of their old apartment in Brooklyn decades ago with the shabby aging furniture and water stains on the ceiling. When it was cold during the winter months, they would huddle together by the fireplace surrounded by pillows and blankets. It had been difficult times back then, but they had made it work. They could only afford so much.

Bucky snorted, “It’s a roof over my head, I’ve had worse.”

The comment brought Steve back to reality. He followed Bucky into the kitchen. “I suppose so, remember the rats in New York City?”

Bucky laughed shortly. “Do I ever.” He opened up his satchel on the kitchen counter and pulled out some bargain discount store cans of food and a box of crackers. “I got dinner,” he tossed one at Steve.

“Really? Corned beef?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Bucky, you can’t live like this.”

“Ain’t that bad, Steve. Just heat it up a bit.” Bucky sorted through the kitchen until he found a couple of mostly clean plates and some glasses. He set them down on the dusty coffee table in the living room. The stove worked at least and he slapped a pot down on it. “Open it and toss it in, mix it with some canned tomatoes and green beans. It’s a meal.”

Steve got a can opener and attempted to participate in the meal preparation. “Suppose it’s better than war food.”

Bucky’s snort this time almost sounded like an attempt at laughter, a sound that warmed Steve’s heart. “I remember the awful taste of Dum Dum’s beans.”

“You’re right, we got through those meals.” Steve smiled warmly as he passed the open can to Bucky. “This should be a piece of cake in comparison.” As he was leaning on the counter and watching Bucky cook, Steve was reminded of similar times in the past. Bucky could always make good meals out of nothing. He always made sure Steve was never hungry.

“How much do you remember?” Steve finally asked as Bucky scooped food out onto the plates.

Bucky frowned. “I don’t really want to have this conversation yet, Steve.” Bucky went to sit cross-legged by the cushion by the coffee table. Steve could tell he was keeping an eye on exits and entrances though. He might have noticed Steve’s somewhat pained look because he relented with a sigh, “I remember enough.”

Steve noticed that Bucky was waiting for him to eat first, another small thing. It had always been the case in the past, Bucky would always make sure Steve had enough before he started eating. “It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it. It’s enough for me to just be here with you.”

“Let me get used to talking, please?” Bucky’s soft request touched his heart. There would be an attempt then.

Steve nodded. “I understand, don’t worry.” He scooped a forkful into his mouth. “Hey, this isn’t too bad.” It wasn’t _great_ either, but it was food.

As he grew accustomed to the room, he began to notice little things. Somehow in the year since the Triskelion, Bucky had apparently acquired a small collection of reminders from his previous life. These things included; books from the 1930s, old newspaper clippings, a helmet from the 107th and other items like records, movies and magazines. There was also a small collection of dog tags which seemed to be all from the 107th as well. It sure looked like he’d raided a LOT of museums for this sizable of a collection. Steve remembered someone discussing a rash of museum heists during dinner at the compound recently, but his focus had been on other things.

“How long have you been holed up here, Bucky?” Steve asked.

Bucky gave a non-committal shrug. “Why does it matter? I came here right after the collapse of Hydra. It was the closest safe-house.”

“You’ve been here ever since?”

Bucky nodded.

“Let’s not kid ourselves here, Hydra’s not collapsed. They’ve just slid under some harder to find rocks.” Steve reached for his drink, water only, since there was nothing else in the house.

Bucky nodded grimly. “I’m aware. I’ve put together potential spots to clean out, I’m going to wipe them off the map, Steve.”

The way Bucky spoke those last words with such bitterness made Steve’s heart break a little. What had been done to him? How much had he suffered? Steve couldn’t even imagine. There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask and he didn’t know if Bucky was ready for any of them.

“I’m happy to help,” Steve offered softly instead.

Bucky just grunted in response, clearly that discussion was closed.

Once Steve finished off his portion of the dinner he smiled and patted his stomach, “stuffed.”

It was only when Steve acknowledged he was full that Bucky scooped the remainder into his plate and finished it off. Some things never changed.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the record player again. They used to have one that Bucky had brought home from the side of the road and fixed up. He wasn’t sure he should ask about it, though.

“Y’know,” Steve tried a small attempt at humor, “there’s new music out there. I have a list.”

Bucky tracked his gaze and seemed to have trouble responding at first, but then he took a deep breath and turned a troubled gaze back to Steve. “I like listening to those,” he finally stated. “They steady me when my mind wanders, and bring me back when it goes blank.”

“Your mind goes blank?” Steve had a sip of his water. It was odd not to have something stronger nearby. He felt like he really needed it even though he wasn’t able to get drunk. “You can talk to me, pal, that’s what I’m here for, but it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

It was probably not the best thing to ask because Steve already knew Bucky didn’t want to talk. He felt a little bad, like he was pressuring him and felt worse when Bucky stiffened.

Bucky looked down at his metal hand and flexed it. “I’m not sure how to explain,” he looked away from Steve as if it was an effort to even communicate properly. He sighed, “I’m messed up is an understatement. My emotions are a wreck. I have no idea sometimes whether a particular feeling is real or enhanced and implanted by…by…” He opened his hand and gestured at nothing in particular, “what they made me into.” He looked down at his hands. “I’ve killed a lot of people. I…remember killing Howard, Steve. I remember the look of betrayed _horror_ in his eyes when I didn’t _stop_. I was programmed with a mission, given an order. Once the weapon, _me_ , was pointed, nothing could stop me. There were times I felt like I wasn’t even driving, if you follow. Sometimes I was in the back, living a nightmare as if something else was inside…I…” He stopped talking and shuddered.

Steve watched him for several minutes while Bucky wrestled with how to properly explain what he had gone through. “Go on, it’s okay,” he reassured his friend softly. He was only here to help. He had known about Howard because he had had found a lot of files on the Winter Soldier and put two and two together. He hadn’t told anyone yet. Especially not Tony. That conversation was going to be extremely difficult. He only cared about Bucky, right now. Everything else could wait. He spoke as gently as he could, “Take as much time as you need to, I’m listening, but you don’t have to tell me anything.”

Bucky’s continued silence spoke louder than words and Steve got the message. The wind picked up a little bit outside signaling the possibility of rain. It had been dark when they got here. He looked at the fireplace. “Might get cold. Want me to start a fire?” He wasn’t sure if Bucky heard him, but he nodded. 

“I cleaned out the fireplace first,” Bucky replied, “it should be okay.”

“Sounds good.” Steve got up to grab the matchbox and some newspapers. “If you want to talk about something else, it’s fine.”

Bucky nodded again. “Thank you.”

He didn’t seem closed off exactly. Steve wasn’t sure what was going on, but he decided not to pressure him.

“Sorry. The words won’t come, Steve,” said Bucky after a moment.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Baby steps, yes?” Steve got the fire going as he smiled and tried to reassure Bucky with just his presence. “Are all these from the 107th?” He gestured towards the collection of dog tags.

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded.

“Why do you have them?” Steve wasn’t sure if it was a better question to get him talking again, but maybe if he could talk about something that was easier it might help.

Bucky exhaled, “I’ve been looking for mine. I read that some people collect them as part of war memorabilia. Haven’t found it yet.”

“Oh, I see, I guess Hydra would have taken them.”

“Like whatever else I had,” Bucky said bitterly. “I thought they might have been with Hydra’s files on me, those are all hardcopy. Couldn’t find anything on the internet about my personal effects. They probably just tossed them. As if my life was just trash. I had family, Steve. My mom died shortly after the war. My sisters and brother, they lived lives, they have kids still alive today. Hydra took it _all_ , Steve. They took my life, my mind, my heart and soul. They took _you_.” He gave Steve an almost helpless look.

“Hey, hey. I get it,” said Steve as he crept a little closer towards him. “You were my family, Bucky. When you fell from that train, it felt like my soul was ripped out of me. I crumbled. I… I don’t know what we are now, but I’d still do whatever I could for you.”

“Including let me nearly kill you,” said Bucky ruefully.

“Yeah, it worked, though. You didn’t.” Steve chuckled a little and when he sat back down, he got slightly closer.

“Stop,” Bucky told him, interrupting the conversation, “Not so close.” He held up a hand defensively. “I need space, Steve. Stay over there where I can see you.”

The words felt harsh, but he acknowledged that there must be more to it and stopped trying to get closer. Steve went back to his original position and tried to keep his feelings in check. He should probably get used to this. The old Bucky would let him huddle close. He’d put his arm around Steve when it was cold or they were both dealing with war trauma.

“I understand,” responded Steve, “sorry, Bucky.”

“Just let me get used to being around you again,” Bucky said as he searched Steve’s eyes. “I’m not trying to push you away, just the opposite. I…I need you.”

“It’s alright, it’s okay,” Steve tried to calm him again, to reassure him that he wasn’t going to try anything. “This is enough,” he stressed softly.

“Thank you,” Bucky sighed as he collected himself.

Silence again.

He had a feeling that he’d have to get used to this too. Steve leaned back against the threadbare couch and took a good long look at Bucky. He’d not aged at all. It was mostly due to the time he spent in cryo; he hadn’t been given the same serum as Steve had, but Zola had known what he was doing. The thought of Zola jogged a memory loose. He’d have to research it further, but he had heard that Zola had been captured with a lot of documents that the SSR filed away. Perhaps those files still existed in one of the old SSR bases. The Antique Store in Brooklyn where he was made had been active during the war but was unlikely to be in use now. Still a lot of things could have been stored there. On Monday when he was back at the Compound, he would enlist Sam’s help.

“How’s it been for you, since waking up?” Bucky asked, clearly welcoming a change of subject.

“Hard,” considered Steve. Hard was sugar coating it, but it was the best description he could come up with. “See, for me the war was fresh in my mind and not over. Transitioning into this century was weird at best. I had help, though, people who wanted things to go smoothly. As things progressed, they became something to latch on to. Then, well, aliens came to New York City, you dropped out of the sky, and I had to fight an insane robot. Don’t even ask about the Asgardians.”

“I needed time to adjust,” shrugged Bucky in reference to him hiding out, “but I wanted to stay as close as I dared to New York. Sorry I couldn’t be more help with the robot.”

“Oh, well, we handled it.” Steve smiled softly. “Hey, earlier it was almost like you thought I’d still have injuries from the Triskelion. Why? That was a while ago.”

“Memory glitches,” Bucky grunted, “I told you. I’m messed up.”

“It’s okay.” Steve smiled again. “You look tired,” he noticed with a frown.

“I’ve not been sleeping more than two or three hours at a time,” explained Bucky. “But perhaps I’ll sleep tonight with you here.” As he looked up from his hand, the ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

When Steve gazed at Bucky’s face and studied his smile, a twinge of sadness clutched his heart. He realized just then how much he had missed that. It was a beautiful thing, it lit up Bucky’s face like all the stars in the sky suddenly decided to get brighter at the same time. It made him feel warm inside, protected, loved. Out of all the things in this world that he couldn’t have again that brilliant, shining smile is the one that hurt the most. He wanted badly to see it again. He wanted it to reach Bucky’s eyes and engulf the room in light. His heart ached and his stomach twisted in knots. He’d just remembered that the last time he’d seen Bucky smile was in the bar with Peggy.

“Do I have something on my face?” Bucky asked after the silence became a little uncomfortable.

“No, sorry, I didn’t realize I was staring,” replied Steve as he looked at Bucky sheepishly and grinned a little. “It’s just that I’ve wanted this for so long, Buck, I’ve missed you so much.”

Bucky’s exhale was a little nervous. “I’ve missed you too.”

Steve almost decided to scoot over a little bit closer, which caused Bucky to flinch. “Sorry…space, I almost forgot.” He stayed where he was and rested his arms on his knees like he used to do when he was younger. “I think we should sleep. Then we can get up early tomorrow and take a crack at this place.”

“Which side do you want?” Bucky asked as he looked at the mattress.

“I thought you wanted space?” Steve stared at Bucky. “I can sleep on the couch…” There were no pillows on the old couch that looked like it would fall apart at any second. But Steve was willing to sleep on it if Bucky needed him to.

Bucky huffed a laugh, “Steve, we slept on the same mattress together for years in Brooklyn because we couldn’t afford another one. Did you forget what we used to do?” He stood up and tossed a few pillows down in the center of the mattress. “Space sorted,” he stated with a smirk.

Steve can’t help but laugh too. “I remember.” He pulled off his boots and belt, then tugged off his jacket and shirt while Bucky stared. He left his undershirt on. “What’s the matter?” Steve asked as he turned out the lights and tossed another log into the fireplace but caught Bucky’s stare.

Bucky frowned and shrugged. “Nothing,” he replied. He took off his own worn-out hoodie to reveal an even worse looking faded red Henley with one cut off sleeve.

Steve looked at Bucky’s arm. “Can I see?”

Bucky’s jaw worked. “No.” He shook his head and left the Henley on. He took off his belt and boots and got onto the bed. He turned on his right side, protecting his good arm.

“I’ve seen most of it before, Bucky,” noted Steve. “Why don’t you want to show me the rest?” He got onto the bed and reached to touch Bucky’s metal arm.

Bucky jerked away. “Please don’t,” he said as his breathing hitched slightly. He glanced back over his shoulder at Steve. “Don’t touch the metal.”

“Okay,” Steve responded softly. “How did you lose the arm?” It had been a question in his head, and he hadn’t meant to ask, but the words had just tumbled out.

Bucky gave him a wide-eyed, slightly hurt look as though the question was far too personal. “Not voluntarily,” he responded tersely and turned back around. “Go to sleep, Steve. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sorry,” Steve mumbled, “Good night, Bucky.”

“Good night, Steve,” Bucky replied after a little while.

The glow from the fire provided a gentle light in the darkness and Steve watched it dance over Bucky’s hair and make his arm glint. Steve was turned on his right side behind Bucky. He wanted to see Bucky; to reassure himself that he was there, to study everything he was allowed to, to breathe in his scent. During the war they had shared a tent. He knew what Bucky looked and smelled like when he was living without regular food, water, and soap. It was a familiar and comforting scent and it was back now.

It was the thing missing from his life…familiarity.

The future was new and full of things he had to adjust to and a life he barely lived. He had Bucky now though, and memories that he could finally share with someone who understood him. It was a great feeling and he couldn’t believe this was happening. He stared up at the ceiling, rolling onto his back. With all the talk at the compound and the endless arguing between himself and Tony he was glad to have this break from the others. This weekend with Bucky. He hoped it would be more than just one weekend. He would have to be very careful though. He would need to try hard to listen and understand. He could not expect things to immediately fix themselves. There would be a lot of push and pull and he didn’t even what to think about how he was going to explain this.

He just wanted to have one good weekend and keep this secret as long as he could. He knew on Monday he was going to face an interrogation because he went dark. He just didn’t trust the others to not immediately want to capture Bucky. Bucky had come to him. It was his job to deal with this, not anyone else’s. Bucky was his responsibility. He had followed Steve into the war with Hydra and lost his mind, his arm, and his life. He became their weapon, suffered at their hands, and lost his family. Steve didn’t want any drama from the others ruining Bucky’s return.

Steve listened carefully for Bucky’s breathing to even out and smiled faintly. He remembered what this used to be like, he did. He just wasn’t sure how or if they could ever get back to that. The last time they had slept on bed together was before Bucky had joined the army.

_They had a small apartment in Brooklyn, only big enough for one mattress which they either shared or took turns on. Bucky had waited a whole week to tell Steve about the letter he’d received. The letter calling him to fight. He’d been awfully nice the whole week and Steve had been a little suspicious Bucky had found a dame and was going to move out. Bucky had been stocking the apartment the entire week and almost clinging. In fact, Steve couldn’t get a moments peace from him. Bucky was everywhere, following him, touching him, hugging him. He just wouldn’t leave Steve alone. Steve had eventually blown up and demanded answers about Bucky’s odd behavior._

_That was when Bucky explained that he had to leave. He had to join the army._

_“I don’t want you to go,” Steve whimpered. “Why you? Why’d you get a letter?”_

_“Because they need people, Steve,” Bucky gazed at him, heartfelt. “I don’t want to leave you, but I don’t have a choice.”_

_“If you’re going, I’m going!” Steve said obstinately._

_“Don’t be ridiculous, Steve, you gotta back down from this fight. They’d never take you and I wouldn’t want you there. You’d be dead the second you stepped on the field. I’ll be careful and I’ll come back. I won’t try and be a hero,” Bucky said softly. “Steve, there’s something I gotta, I gotta say…Something I gotta tell you,” he added quickly._

_“I wouldn’t be! I can fight!” Steve had sprung off the bed, focused only on the hurtful words that he couldn’t handle a rough situation. That he was too weak._

_“Steve, goddamnit, listen to me, I’m trying…”_

_“No, you’re wrong, Bucky! I’m gonna make someone take me. I’m going to try wherever I can, however I can. I’m going to get over there, and I’m going to do my part and there’s nothing you can say that will stop me!” Steve had moved away from the bed to get his shoes._

_Bucky sighed, “Steve, please don’t leave.” He looked crestfallen and resigned. He stopped trying to say what he had wanted to say. “It’s too early in the morning,” he tried to argue. “I only have a few more hours.”_

_“Early enough for me to get in line at the first recruitment center.” Steve had huffed as his temper got the better of him. How dare Bucky suggest he couldn’t handle a fight!? He’d been fighting his whole life._

_“I just--Steve, I just want you to be here when I get back!” Bucky’s words had been earnest and a little anxious. “You’re my best friend and I…” He stopped himself. “I want you to be safe. God damnit Steve, just once, just once will you listen to me?”_

_“Sorry, Bucky, I gotta go get in line.” Steve had gone for his coat._

_At that moment, Bucky had surged off the bed and gone over to him. He’d forcefully dragged him back to their couch and sat him down on it._

_“Let me go!” Steve had tried getting back up._

_Bucky pushed him back down on the couch. “Steve, will you please calm down? I didn’t mean to upset you. Steve, look at me.”_

_Steve jumped up again and shoved ineffectively at Bucky. “If you’re going, I’m going! I gotta do my duty!” He fought tears. What if Bucky died over there?_

_They struggled and fought, Steve throwing punches and Bucky shoving him back on the couch every time. The couch even toppled over until finally Steve was too exhausted to keep fighting._

_“Fine,” Steve sighed, deflated. “I’ll stay.”_

_Bucky had such a relieved look that Steve felt bad because he knew that the next day when Bucky left, he’d be at the recruitment office. Somehow, he’d get into that war. Bucky had hugged him tightly and curled into him. Steve had remembered feeling disbelief at that. Bucky had never been like that before. He’d practically clung to Steve. Whatever he had been about to say before, Steve would never know._

_“You mean the world to me, punk,” Bucky’s soft whisper had surprised him, and he knew what to say in response. He just let Bucky cling to him. It was going to be weird and lonely without Bucky._

_“I’ll miss you too,” Steve had responded. The answer seemed to satisfy Bucky who just wanted to stay where he was._

_Then Bucky was gone. Steve had somehow managed to live on his own. It had hurt terribly, and he hated every minute that Bucky was over there and he was not. He told himself he was jealous that he couldn’t be accepted into the army like everyone else could. He wanted to fight for his country but he was too small and sickly._

_When Bucky returned once to announce he was being shipped out and had finished training Steve had been awful to him. Bucky had tracked him down and had wanted to spend the evening with him. They had gone out with girls and Steve couldn’t concentrate on anything. Bucky had been angry with him for trying to get into the army then too, but he was also relieved they wouldn’t take him._

_Steve had never found out what Bucky had been about to tell him that night he learned Bucky was joining the army. What was that something Bucky was going to say?_

Steve yawned a little, maybe now that he had a little more insight, he could get an answer to that question. Maybe it was the answer he was hoping for, he didn’t know. He would wait and wouldn’t push Bucky. After all, back then he had no idea what his true feelings were, so maybe Bucky hadn’t known either.

He closed his eyes and relaxed finally. All these things reminded him of a time when he had been the happiest; the lumpy mattress, the dingy smell, and the crackling fireplace. He hadn’t realized it since he came out of the ice, but he realized it now. This was the first time he’d managed to get comfortable in the years he’d woken from the ice. He was fast asleep in moments.

In the morning, it was raining lightly and Steve woke to the sound of pattering drops against the creaky roof. He groggily ratcheted open one eye and took a moment to acclimate to unfamiliar surroundings. He glanced over to where Bucky was still peacefully sleeping and found that in spite of it being somewhere new, he was comfortable. He’d slept well. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine they were back at the old apt in Brooklyn. He could dream that Bucky was about to get up for work and they were both safe and sound back home, back where they belonged.

He wasn’t in Brooklyn anymore, though, and he had things to sort out. He had emotions to deal with and he needed a plan. He needed a strategy because he was having a reaction he wasn’t used to. He glanced again at Bucky. He was used to being this close to him and his body hadn’t given him any trouble then so why did he feel like this now? He wasn’t aroused, exactly, and he didn’t know exactly what this feeling was.

What were his goals here? If he started floundering and focused on what he wanted, he’d lose sight of what was really needed. He had to sort them out in his head first. Feelings, sexual or otherwise, those needed to be suppressed. No problem, he was a master at that. What mattered was Bucky, helping him, and getting him back. That was it, that was the goal. As much as he wanted more, Steve knew that he could not apply any pressure on that front. Last night Bucky had not wanted any physical contact and he would respect that, no matter what.

Even with all of this sorted in his head now, Steve still had this problem of his body being warm and ready and what he should do with this situation. Routine? He thought about that briefly and decided that was the best course of action.

He carefully rose to his feet as he didn’t want to wake Bucky and began to start his morning routine. It always ended after a run outside, then a shower. He washed his face and shaved, then he got into his sweatpants. The cold water had certainly helped pull his thoughts together. He left a note for Bucky and stopped as he looked back at the mattress.

Bucky was sleeping so soundly, comfortably. He’d turned around and was facing the side that Steve had been. Steve rubbed his face. The sun caught the lighter highlights in Bucky’s hair and his chest tightened a little bit. Bucky was totally covered and he didn’t leave any part of his body exposed. It was different because Steve remembered he loved walking around in his underwear and a tank. Bucky was always the first one to take off his shirt. He was the one all the girls liked to stare at.

Steve sat heavily down on the sofa and it creaked. Outside, the rain stopped but he couldn’t focus on that. He could only stare at the man sleeping on the mattress. It had finally dawned on Steve that he was approaching this all wrong.

This wasn’t his Bucky, not really. This man had gone through things he couldn’t even imagine. He was selfish even thinking that they could easily go back to how they were. He couldn’t act like everything was normal. He couldn’t go through routines and expect this man to just fall in line. Even leaving on a run might cause more damage than he had initially realized.

He went back to the mattress and climbed into it as he had come to the conclusion that he didn’t matter. He was okay. He laid out exactly as he did when Bucky fell asleep. He would wait like this until Bucky woke up. He picked a book out of his backpack and started reading. If he wanted Bucky back, if he wanted things to work, it had to be on Bucky’s terms, not his. Here he didn’t have to be Captain America. He didn’t have to lead.

In this house he was Steve Rogers because that’s who Bucky needed.

TBC


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they attempt to figure out how to act around each other and there are feelings!

Steve drifted in and out of sleep for a while as he waited for Bucky to wake up. Bucky was never a morning person but he didn’t used to sleep this late. He was clearly tired and Steve didn’t have the heart to try and wake him. Sunlight streamed through the cracks between the dusty baroque curtains and thankfully the rain had stopped. The air felt a little fresher as it always did at the end of a gentle sprinkle and Steve was looking forward to getting outside. As he waited, Bucky murmured a bit in his sleep, a few Russian words here and there that Steve didn’t understand. Nightmares, perhaps? Steve wondered since he had them himself from time to time.

Eventually, Bucky stirred and Steve watched warily as his friend sat up abruptly, knife in hand. He put his hands in front where Bucky could see them and stayed where he was. “It’s just me,” he said softly, “Steve.”

Bucky seemed to relax a little bit after a few moments and lowered his knife. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “reflex.”

“I get it,” nodded Steve, then he smiled. “Good morning.”

Bucky looked a little bit confused as to how to respond as if that was a term he hadn’t heard in a while. In the end, he simply nodded and dragged his eyes away from Steve.

Steve made a mental note to ask later but decided not to draw attention to it.

Bucky got to his feet and straightened his side of the bed. He grabbed his clothes and headed into the bathroom without a word. It was a half an hour before he emerged. By this time Steve was leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting. He’d made some toast and eggs.

“Thanks,” said Bucky gratefully as he grabbed the food and ate standing up.

“So,” Steve shifted slightly to watch him, “what do you want to tackle today?”

“I have some blueprints,” said Bucky between mouthfuls, “we can work our way through them. Would like to tackle the roof first, otherwise gonna get cold.”

“Ok,” nodded Steve, “maybe we can listen to music as we work?”

“Sure.” Bucky might have even smiled; it was hard to tell.

Steve hoped he would eventually, he missed that smile. “You sleep okay?” he asked.

Bucky stuffed bread into his mouth and took his time to answer. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Yeah, I did. I slept well, and you were here when I woke.” He lifted his eyes to Steve. The small act of remaining in place had clearly had meant a lot to him and he seemed to be trying to convey that through his eyes. He reached over and lightly touched Steve’s forearm. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Anytime,” Steve grinned widely at him. Thousands of questions and emotions swirled within as his heart pounded, but he held them all back. He was not going to overwhelm Bucky, though. He was good with one small step at a time. As long as everyone left them alone, it could work. They could make their way back to each other.

Once breakfast was over Bucky laid out the plans that the house to make it livable. Steve wondered why they were fixing a house neither of them owned but he wasn’t going complain. It was something they could do together. Bucky had a lot of supplies in the shed and they spent the next couple of hours going through what they needed for the day and organized it. The dialogue between them was easy but they didn’t discuss anything personal. Here it was warm and secluded under the rising Sun. As they moved back and forth from the shed to the house, Steve noticed a small vegetable garden out of the corner of his eye. Had it always been there or had Bucky started it? He’d ask later. He wanted to know more, hear more but he didn’t want to push. It was too soon to start asking questions, too soon to expect Bucky to open up. Bucky was there, that was all that mattered to him. He was there, he was alive and he remembered.

The dog tags were also in the back of Steve’s mind. He wasn’t sure if he was going to find Bucky’s tags but he’d try. He was still considering who he was going to ask for help, he’d figure that out on Monday.

With a grunt Steve hefted some of the wood planks from the shed and moved them over to the house. Bucky was up already on the roof and working on peeling off the wet tarp. He was lost in thought when dirty rainwater splashed down from the roof over him, getting all over his shirt. “Hey!” Steve sputtered as he glared up.

“Sorry,” Bucky chuckled as the tarp tumbled down the side of the roof, the rest of the water with it.

Steve sighed, the dirty water was causing the shirt to stick to him so he tugged it off and tossed it on the porch railing to dry. “Yeah,” he snorted.

He climbed up the ladder to help Bucky pull off the rotted roof section. They tugged and ripped at fastenings and loose shingles, tossing them down into a big pile below. It was almost cathartic in a way. “So, how did you learn how to fix roofs?” asked Steve.

“Youtube,” replied Bucky with a deadpan look.

“Really?” Steve’s eyebrows climbed.

“Of course not, _punk_ ,” Bucky rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Have you got so many new muscles that you’ve forgotten I used to help my Dad with construction repairs?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Steve smiled as the image of Bucky’s father came to mind. He was a veteran from WWI and a good man. The pet name registered, and Steve couldn’t help it, a wider smile spread across his face as he gazed at Bucky. “I remember now.”

It then dawned at him that Bucky had made an actual joke. That meant he still had a sense of humor and the knowledge made his heart swell even more.

“And hey, they aren’t new muscles, you’ve seen them before.” Steve looked at him reproachfully. He’d been shirtless in front of the Howlers, right? He tried to think back…well, maybe not. He rubbed the back of his neck and recalled how shy he had been. He had a new body but he didn’t want to show off. He hadn’t even done it for the movies no matter how much money they’d offered him.

“I haven’t seen them before, Steve,” said Bucky quietly. “I ain’t seen you without a shirt since the night I left for the war.”

“Oh,” Steve swallowed.

Bucky chewed his lip and did his best not to stare. “You’re so different,” he exhaled. “I’d still follow you anywhere, though, I mean…yeah.” He looked away and tossed the last roof tiles down. “You look good,” he shrugged.

Steve had heard that before, a lot, from women and men ever since the serum. He’d always taken them with a grain of salt and it never bolstered his ego. These were the words he’d been waiting for, he realized. This was the compliment that _mattered_. If Bucky thought he looked good, that meant the world. “So do you,” he smiled.

Bucky looked up at him sharply and squinted as though he thought he hadn’t heard right. “I’m a mess,” he shook his head, “I look nothing like I used to.” Distracted by Steve’s words he accidently scraped his hand on loose shingle when he moved too quickly. He hissed in pain and grabbed a nearby cloth to cover the wound.

Steve reached over to attempt to grab his hand. “Are you okay?”

Bucky looked startled by the quick move and backed away. He scrambled to the edge of the roof. “Don’t.” He gazed at Steve with wide eyes and snapped, “Don’t touch me.” He leapt off the roof and landed easily on his metal hand. Without another word he headed into the house. 

Steve’s eyebrows climbed and cursed, “Damnit.” He sighed. One step forward, two steps back.

Steve kept working and let Bucky have his space. He got the roof ready for the planks and tore out the rest of the rotted wood by hand. He would let Bucky come back on his own. He’d have to be more careful and think first before he acted.

There really wasn’t anything he could compare to how Bucky behaved. He’d never dealt with any type of post traumatic stress like this. Sam’s group had taught him a little bit about it but not enough to know how to react. Sam had said it was a case by case basis. Most veterans had it but Bucky’s was something else. Something deeper. Hydra had _tortured_ him. They had messed with his mind, his memories, everything. They’d taken what made James Buchanan Barnes, turned him into a weapon and worked him over until there was hardly anything at all left of the man. The good man who had kept Steve alive for years. Bucky was part of the reason Steve hade made it into his twenties.

That good man that had been Steve’s lifeline and he sure as Hell wasn’t going to abandon him. He could see it even when no one else could. It made Bucky special. That was the part that Steve had desperately tried to latch on to, to tug back with all his might. It had worked, he thought, he was sure. Bucky wasn’t Bucky anymore. He knew and he understood that. They couldn’t go back to being what they had been, they weren’t those men anymore. No one knew Bucky before the war, they didn’t know the things that Bucky had done for him.

_“Hey, buddy…stay with me, huh?”_

_The sound of Bucky’s voice drowned out the repeating words echoing down the hospital hallway._

_“M’ here,” Steve moaned._

_“Oh, thank God.”_

_Bucky’s face slowly came into focus and Steve stared blurrily at him._

_“What happened?” Steve’s throat felt raw and his eyes ached._

_“You had a fever, scared the shit out of me. I found you passed out at your place.” Bucky looked both angry and relieved at the same time. “I carried you here.”_

_“Bucky, that’s five blocks.”_

_“Yeah, so what?” Bucky sat heavily in the chair by Steve’s bed. “You don’t have the sense God gave a sheep sometimes, Steve!”_

_“I needed to get the mail,” Steve muttered._

_“Without a robe on, in the middle of winter.” Bucky sighed. “It’s a good thing I was coming over anyway. God, I can’t leave you alone for a day.”_

_They were probably nineteen and twenty at the time. He knew he’d been getting on Bucky’s nerves lately with all the times he was sick and needed attention._

_“Sorry, Bucky. I’ll think next time.”_

_“You’d better!” There was silence for a moment as Bucky sat in thought before he said slowly, “Listen Steve, I think you should consider living with me, for a little while at least, okay?”_

_“Your dames won’t like that.”_

_“Don’t give a shit what they like or don’t like. I’m tired of worrying about whether you’re passed out on a floor or not. Just for the winter, at least, okay?”_

_Bucky had taken his hand and had looked so earnestly at him that Steve finally nodded. “Alight, fine, just for the winter.”_

_Since then Steve had lived with Bucky on and off. He didn’t like staying there permanently, though as much as Bucky insisted that it was fine. He was a man and should be able to get by on his own and he was stubborn too. Too stubborn to see Bucky’s concern for anything other than friendship._ It was his time to return the favor. His time to help his best friend and he couldn’t afford to focus on desire.

Eventually Bucky came back out with his hand wrapped up. He tossed up one of the planks to Steve and scaled up to the roof again. He was back to himself and didn’t seem to want to talk about it so Steve took the piece of wood and followed his terse directions to fit it where it needed to go. They hammered it into place and went on to the next and the next. It was routine and he could handle it. They put down the insulin and the boards, then the shingles as time wore on. He felt a little hungry and wasn’t sure whether it was still morning or late afternoon. He wiped sweat off his brow.

They talked a little bit about small things. Things that didn’t really mater a lot. For instance, baseball games. Steve liked to tune in to those which caused him a lot of friendly ribbing from the rest of the team. He told Bucky about that because it was so weird to him that people were glued to the television and their phones. Steve laughed softly. “Tony tells me I’m a fossil. They just don’t appreciate how radios used to let your imaginations run wild. I remember we used to argue about what Flash Gordon really looked like.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled, “I remember, I remember a lot of things, Steve. Um…sorry about earlier.” He lowered his gaze.

“It’s okay, I moved too quickly, my fault,” apologized Steve, “I’ll try and remember.”

“I’m not used to being around people,” Bucky said as he ventured a small smile. “I want you here, Steve, I…I need you here.”

“I know,” said Steve as he looked at him gently, “I understand, Bucky.”

They looked at each other, and Steve could see Bucky’s normal hand shudder a little. “I…I have stuff I want to tell you.” The words came out in a rush as if he wanted to expel them. “A lot of things, Steve, things I’ve held back, things I wanted to tell you before but couldn’t.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Steve assured him softly.

“Thank you, but I think I do.” Bucky nodded, “Not now though.” His hand trembled as he placed it on Steve’s chest. He noticed a drop of sweat and flicked it off with his thumb, “You’re hot, you wanna go for a swim?”

“A swim? You got a lake nearby?” Steve tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. Bucky’s touch caused his body to heat rapidly and he strove to bury everything back down. That door wasn’t ready to be unlocked.

“More like a pond,” Bucky snorted, “but it’ll do, it has fish too, so we can catch some later for dinner.”

He and Bucky laid a fresh tarp back over the patched hole and got off the roof. They grabbed a couple of towels and Bucky took some beer from the fridge and snagged a bag of pretzels and a small mini cooler.

“That’s not a great lunch,” Steve laughed.

“We’ll eat better when we get back. Grab that fishing pole.”

Steve did and they trudged off through the woods. It wasn’t far away, the small watering hole. Steve marveled. It was nothing special, really, a little pond in the middle of the woods. There was an old rotted rope hanging from a tree branch that teenagers must have used in the past to jump in. A small river trickled into it as it wove through the forest and up the hills. It was a rocky bottom so the water was clean and fresh though the bank were a bit mossy.

He didn’t feel self-conscious as he stripped down, Bucky had seen him nude plenty of times before the war. What he was not prepared for was how Bucky watched him as he did so. He tried not to take too long because he didn’t know what to make of that. When Steve was finally in the water Bucky stood to do the same thing. “Isn’t the arm going to rust?” wondered Steve.

Bucky shook his head. “Nah,” he laughed softly. “The shit they used is pretty sturdy, rust proof.” He faced Steve. “Let me see your hands,” he asked in a hard tone of voice.

“Okay?” Steve raised them out of the water.

Steve kept his eyes on Bucky’s face, he didn’t think he should look but he couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming down. Bucky didn’t strip all the way down at all. He kept his boxers on and his undershirt. Steve was about to make a comment on that but decided against it. If Bucky didn’t want to get naked, Steve wasn’t going to make him. Bucky could do whatever the hell he wanted and Steve would be happy just to be there with him.

It wasn’t long before they were both in the water. It felt great. Bucky’s father sometimes used to take them to a cabin in upstate New York from time to time but Steve didn’t take well to the great outdoors. Too many allergies. He was fine with it now, though. The water was nice and cool and though Bucky kept to the other side of the swimming hole, Steve felt great. He could do this forever. Live here, come here every day, talk to Bucky, swim and fish. It would be a good life.

Bucky smiled at him from the other end of the pond and his heart knotted up. Steve wanted so badly to swim over there, but he stayed where he was, the incident on the roof still clear in his head. Neither of them was in any state of mind to progress to a physical level anyway.

Steve felt like Bucky didn’t need to deal with his shit so he laughed and sent a splash Bucky’s way. He would use this time together to just be with his friend.

Bucky’s reaction was startled at first, but under the sunlight his eyes sparkled as he laughed suddenly. It was a fresh, beautiful sound and it made Steve’s heart flutter. Bucky splashed back and they were kids again. It was a signal that Steve could come closer, so he did and they got comfortable enough to even wrestle a little bit as they tried to grab each other in the water. It wasn’t much but they had fun and it was worth every minute to see the light in Bucky’s eyes.

As time wore at the swimming hole, Steve began to get more comfortable. He lay on a towel in his underwear while Bucky fished. “You know we could have gone and bought fish for dinner?” joked Steve.

“Yeah, but the scenery’s not as great.” Bucky tossed a pebble into the pond.

“Suppose you’re right,” nodded Steve. He stretched. “Take it we’re not doing any more work on the roof this afternoon?”

“Nah, sun will go down soon. We’ll make food when we get back.”

“Noticed the garden, got anything good growing there?”

“Not yet,” Bucky shook his head, “ain’t so good with plants, figured I’d give it a shot though.”

Steve laughed, unable to picture Bucky cultivating a garden given their upbringings in the middle of Brooklyn.

“Shut up, punk. You just watch, I’ll grow potatoes at least.”

“Anyone can grow a potato, Bucky.”

“ _You’re_ a potato,” Bucky snorted childishly.

“Says who?” Steve sat up almost ready to tackle…then he thought the better of it. “Awe, maybe I am. At least I’m a good-looking potato.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Steve, you’re a goddamned amazing looking potato.” 

Steve scoffed. “Shut up.”

“Make me, Rogers.” Bucky snickered as he put the fish he’d caught into the cooler.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure that was an invitation, so he opted for the safe route and just laughed it off.

Once enough fish were caught, they both got their pants and shoes back on and headed back to the house.

The air was cooler as the sun was going down and Steve watched Bucky clean the fish and start the grill while he did a few sketches.

“You never did anything with your art,” Bucky said. “You always said you were gonna, why not?”

Steve shrugged. “It never really felt that important with the war and all, I guess. No one wanted to buy sketches, Bucky.”

Bucky set the grill on low to cook and went to sit on the rickety front steps with Steve. He peered over Steve’s shoulder at the drawings. “You’re still good.”

“I don’t have much time for it these days, but I try to remember things from the past.” Steve continued.

“Why? It’s gone, let it go,” said Bucky softly as he picked at a loose board.

Steve looked back at him. “No, it isn’t.”

They both leaned into each other and Steve rose to close the distance as he pressed their foreheads together. That was it though, nothing more, it was a kind of promise. He wanted to touch but he would wait for the right moment. In the back of his mind a tiny voice mocked him; _look what happened the last time you waited._

“The fish!” Bucky’s eyes widened and he leapt to his feet to go make sure they didn’t burn.

During dinner they didn’t talk too much. Bucky asked about his apartment in Brooklyn and Steve said it wasn’t much but it was his and Bucky was welcome anytime.

Bucky scoffed, “I’m not welcome anywhere, Steve. I’ve killed too many people.”

“That wasn’t _you_!” argued Steve, “you can’t take responsibility for something other people made you do!”

“I remember it though, Steve, I remember all of it.” Bucky finished his fish and set the plate aside. He rested his arms on his knees. “Every moment. Once you jogged my memory everything spilled out again. It took about a month for me to sort through, everything was so chaotic in my head.” He looked down at his hands. “I remember the life of my victims, I can hear their screams, begs for mercy.” He stared at his metal hand and made a fist. “I had no mercy to give. I had no option. All I had were the missions.”

Steve laid a hand over Bucky’s without thinking. “It was only because you were programmed to feel that way,” Steve responded softly. “You didn’t ask for any of this, all you wanted was to fight for your country.”

“I got drafted into the War, Steve, I didn’t ask for that either.” Bucky shrugged, “I wanted to…” He paused as he slowly linked his fingers with Steve’s.

“What did you want?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky exhaled and tugged his hand away abruptly.

“It does matter, Bucky!” said Steve as he gripped his hand and refused to let go. “Everything _matters_. Please talk to me.”

“Steve….” Bucky’s breath came out in short little gasps and his face had turned a little ashen, “Steve, let go.”

He let go. “I’m sorry,” Steve ducked his head, “God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t, it’s okay,” Bucky rubbed the top of his hand. “Anyway,” Bucky cleared his throat as he seemed to try and calm down. Steve noticed the tightness to his jaw and a little quiver on his lip. He took a breath but the air didn’t quite make it all the way. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he shuddered. “I really don’t want to, Steve.”

“Oh.” Steve’s expression fell and he gave Bucky an unhappy look. He didn’t know what topics were okay and not okay. “Um,” he bit his lip, “sky looks cloudy. Think it will rain again tomorrow morning?”

A smile tugged on the corner of Bucky’s lips. “You don’t have to try that hard Steve. I told you, I’m fucked up, I’ll tell you what I do and don’t want to talk about.”

“Well, that’s a relief, cause I’m a terrible guesser,” Steve attempted levity to try and defuse the tension. “Tony tried to make us play Pictionary as a team building effort and I was awful at it.”

“What the hell is Pictionary?”

“It’s a board game. Anyway, it’s okay Bucky. I won’t do anything you don’t want,” Steve tried to assure him. 

“You’re a damn Prince, Steve,” Bucky shook his head in bemusement, “and I don’t think I’m really worth your time. You should be off saving the world and not dealing with my shit.”

“The world has enough heroes right now. It’s you I care about.”

“Liar, first time someone screams help, Steve Rogers is out the window to their rescue.” Bucky almost sounded bitter.

Steve placed a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m not looking to rescue damsels in distress today, Buck,” he smiled ruefully.

“Good, cause I ain’t a damsel and I’m not in distress,” Bucky muttered but didn’t pull away. “I don’t need rescuing, either.”

“You’re my friend and you need me, so I’m here.” Steve extended his arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

“Ain’t gonna faint because you flashed that dumb smile either,” Bucky replied tersely, though he leaned into Steve.

“My smile isn’t as dumb as your face,” Steve retorted good-naturedly.

Bucky shoved at him a little playfully which made his heart skip a beat. These small moments were few and precious and Steve treasured each one as they came. They showed that Bucky was there, under all that fearsome assassin guise, he was still the friend that Steve missed terribly.

It was soft and sweet and with every inch they gained Steve’s hope for progress blossomed.

They watched the sun go down as they sat on the porch together and drank a couple of beers.

“Stevie?” Bucky asked him.

“Yeah?”

“You got anyone? I mean, anyone special?”

Yes, _you_. Steve wanted to say. “Um, no,” he responded instead. “Haven’t really had the time. Nat tried setting me up but it didn’t work out.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose. “You mean to say you still can’t talk to women? Good lord, have you even had sex?”

“Got a busy job saving the world you know.”

“But there’s downtime?”

“Yeah, sure, but no one I’m interested in.” Steve shrugged.

Bucky muttered something that sounded like _good_ , but Steve couldn’t be sure. It could just be wishful thinking.

“What about this Nat person you keep talking about?”

“Natasha Romanov? No, she’s just a friend,” Steve explained.

“I knew her,” Bucky looked away, “your friend.”

“Really? She was kind of annoyed you didn’t recognize her.”

“Well, I fucked her, that’s why,” Bucky smirked as though he wanted to see Steve’s reaction.

Steve’s felt his chest tighten. “You slept with Nat?”

“It was years ago, my mind got wiped and I went into cryo because I tried to escape.” Bucky picked again at the loose floorboards. “Also, I shot her.”

“Guess she’s not going to like you much.” Steve grimaced, there went his brilliant idea to involve Nat.

“She’ll get over it.” Bucky frowned, “I hope. I’ll apologize to her.”

They sat there for a while together as they finished off their beers. Bucky leaned into Steve’s arm and he was close enough that Steve could feel his heartbeat.

“You’re going to be okay,” Steve said firmly.

“You can’t punch this and make it go away, Steve,” Bucky snorted. “I love that you want to try though, and that you’re here. I can’t just be better because someone else wants me to be though. You understand, don’t you?” He looked up at Steve with a cautious expression as he searched his eyes. It was an expression that indicated he didn’t think Steve understood just how damaged he was. He wanted Steve to understand, that much was clear but

“I get it,” Steve nodded, “no, I do get it, Bucky…don’t look at me like that. I know what trauma is and I’m not going to push you. I’ll keep coming here until you’re ready.”

Bucky ducked his chin down a little as he gazed at his hands. He looked like he didn’t know what to make of that statement.

“People are gonna find out, Stevie. You’re not going to get away with disappearing every weekend. Hell, this might be the only weekend. If we get compromised, I’m in the wind. I won’t go to a prison cell, Steve. I _won’t._ ” The tilt of Bucky’s chin was obstinate, he really meant that. He would disappear again if he had to. “I spent years in one…I won’t do it again. I’ll go down fighting if I have to.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen.” Steve tightened his grip around Bucky’s shoulders. “Please let me try and make things right.”

“You’re always so damned optimistic. I guess that’s what I love about you,” Bucky sighed.

Steve’s eyes widened; did he mean to say that? What did he mean by that? He ached to know, desperately wanted to ask and just couldn’t. He was too afraid that Bucky wasn’t ready for that question, too afraid of the answer.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Bucky smirked at Steve’s expression.

Steve decided not to push. “Love you too, Pal, even when you’re obstinate and impossible.”

Bucky shook his head in bemusement, “Steve, you got nerve calling someone _else_ stubborn.”

“You have a point,” Steve laughed. “Maybe I’m a little like that.”

“A little…,” Bucky snorted, “let’s go inside, it’s starting to get a little cold out here.”

Steve nodded in agreement and followed Bucky in.

**TBC**


End file.
